


Draco's worst fear

by Dontthrowsticksatme (dontthrowsticksatme)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boggarts, Fake Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26410873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontthrowsticksatme/pseuds/Dontthrowsticksatme
Summary: When Lupin wants the third-year Slytherins to defeat a Boggart, Draco is afraid of what his Boggart will reveal. And as it turns out: rightly so.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 297
Collections: Harry Potter





	Draco's worst fear

Professor Lupin wasn’t there when they arrived at his first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.

‘Typical,’ Draco drawled.

They all sat down, took out their books, quills and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher’s desk. He looked as shabby as ever.

‘Merlin, this place is going to the dogs,’ said Draco, averting his gaze in disgust.

‘Good afternoon,’ Lupin said. ‘Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today’s class will be a practical lesson. You will only need your wands.’

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defence Against the Dark Arts before, unless you counted the memorable lesson last year when their old teacher had brought a cage full of pixies to class and set them loose.

‘Right then,’ said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready, ‘if you’d follow me.’

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where they stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

‘Inside, please,’ said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, panelled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty.

‘Now, then,’ said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class towards the end of the room, where there was nothing except an old wardrobe in which the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

‘Nothing to worry about,’ said Professor Lupin calmly, as a few people jumped backwards in alarm. ‘There’s a Boggart in there.’

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Theo gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Blaise eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

‘Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces,’ said Professor Lupin. ‘Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks – I once met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third-years some practice.’

‘Golly, lucky us,’ snarled Draco.

‘A Boggart can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most,’ Lupin went on undisturbed. ‘So the Boggart siting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.’

‘Pansy’s face,’ jeered Draco.

The class laughed. Pansy made a rude gesture.

‘Thank you, Draco.’ Lupin smiled. ‘For demonstrating exactly what we need this lesson. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practise the charm without wands first. After me, please… Riddikulus!’

‘Riddikulus!’ said the class together.

‘This class is ridiculous,’ muttered Draco.

‘Good,’ said Professor Lupin. ‘I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical.’

The room went quiet. Draco thought… What was he most afraid of in the world?

His first ideas were typical things: spiders, heights, the dark…?

Then a horrible thought popped in his head. Green eyes, messy black hair, but more importantly: Draco’s reaction – _en plein public_. The staring, pointing, whispering; looks of distain, hatred, disgust; the faces of his parents…

His worst fear was people finding out about his worst fear.

Draco shuddered. Looking around, he noticed many people had their eyes shut. Draco used the opportunity to back away, behind Pansy, behind Blaise, and further back, until he was hidden behind the group.

‘Everyone ready?’ said Professor Lupin.

Draco felt a lurch of panic. He wasn’t ready, not by far. There was no way he could face his Boggart without his worst fear coming true.

To his horror he saw everyone else nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

‘One – two – three – now!’

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin’s wand and hit the door knob. The wardrobe burst open.

‘Pansy! Forward!’

Pansy walked forward, her face set. A bloodstained, bandaged mummy stepped out of the wardrobe; its sightless face was turned to Pansy and it began to walk towards her, very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising –

‘Riddikulus!’ cried Pansy. A bandage unravelled at the mummy’s feet; it became entangled, fell face forwards and its head rolled off.

‘Blaise!’ roared Professor Lupin.

Blaise darted past Pansy.

Crack!

Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face – a banshee. She opened her mouth wide, and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek which made the hair on Draco’s head stand on end –

‘Riddikulus!’ shouted Blaise.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

Crack!

The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then – crack! – became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before – crack! – becoming a single, bloody eye ball.

The line in front of Draco was shortening at a terrifying rate. Draco’s heart was now beating almost out of his chest in fear.

‘It’s confused!’ shouted Lupin. ‘We’re getting there! Theodore!’

Theo hurried forward, leaving only Draco, with his back pressed against the wall.

Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over, and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

‘Riddikulus!’ yelled Theodore.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

‘Excellent! Draco, you next!’

Draco couldn’t move. He pressed his back against the wall and shook his head.

‘You can do it!’ shouted Lupin. ‘Think of something funny!

‘Go, Draco!’ shouted Gregory.

‘Finish him off!’ said Lupin.

‘Yeah, finish him, Draco!’ yelled Pansy.

The hand inside the trap crept across the floor, towards the excited students and their Professor.

Draco stared his Professor dead in the eye. ‘No,’ he said emphatically.

Professor Lupin seemed baffled. For a moment he considered what to do with Draco’s insubordination, then he stepped forward –

Crack!

The hand had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said ‘Riddikulus!’ almost lazily, and the Boggart exploded – and was gone.

‘Excellent!’ said Professor Lupin, as the class broke into applause. ‘Well done everyone! Five points to Slytherin for every person to tackle the Boggart!’

Pansy hollered.

‘Very well, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarise it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all. Draco, a word, please?’

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom, all except for Draco, who felt miserable.

Professor Lupin sat down on a table. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked, looking quite sincere.

Draco sneered. ‘Of course.’

‘Why didn’t you want to face the Boggart?’

Draco crossed his arms and shrugged. ‘I just didn’t.’

‘What was it going to turn into?’

Draco scowled at him. ‘Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a problem to face it, would it?’

Lupin seemed to have trouble understanding that reply. People could be so thick. Stupid Professors. Draco could replace them all in a heartbeat if he’d wanted.

‘I can’t give you a passing grade if you don’t do the assignment,’ said Lupin. ‘Especially if you can’t give me a solid reason.’

‘I just gave you one!’

‘You can’t defeat the Boggart, because… it will turn into something people are not allowed to see?’

Draco gestured vaguely in confirmation.

‘Not a solid reason,’ said Lupin.

Groaning, Draco put his hands behind his neck.

‘Tell you what,’ said Lupin, ‘I’ll find another Boggart and let you redo the assignment without the rest of the class present. It’ll give you another chance to pass the assignment. How’s that?’

Draco felt like kicking something until it broke. Choosing between his grade or his secret – it was unfair!

‘You need to be able to face your fears, Draco,’ said Lupin sternly. ‘I’m sure it’s not as big a deal as you think. It might actually be a relief to have done this. A ship in the harbour is safe, but that is not what a ship is for.’

Load of dung! Draco wanted to shout. He could simply _hide_ his fears; it had worked perfectly before this sad excuse of a teacher had turned up!

Lupin got to his feet. ‘Your choice.’

‘Fine,’ Draco growled quickly. ‘But you can’t tell _anyone_ what you saw. No one at all.’

Lupin turned to look at him. ‘I solemnly swear not to tell anyone. I’ll find a new Boggart and let you know when and where you can redo the assignment.’

He held the door open for Draco. As Draco passed, Lupin cheerfully told him, ‘You’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah. Whatever.’

. . .

At eight o’clock on Thursday evening, Draco left the Slytherin Dungeons for the History of Magic classroom, where he would have to reveal his biggest secret and worst fear to some shady Professor he only just met.

The room was dark and empty when he arrived; Lupin was late, as usual. Draco lit the lamps with his wand and waited.

Five minutes later, Professor Lupin turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor Binn’s desk.

‘Another Boggart,’ he said, stripping off his cloak. ‘I’ve been combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr Filch’s filing cabinet.

‘Whoop-dee-doo,’ muttered Draco miserably.

Lupin looked sharply at him. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he repeated. ‘You’ve seen your friends do it; I have no doubt you can do it too, and I’m here to back you up.’

Draco scowled and bit his tongue. He had at least six insults ready and that was only from the top of his head, he was sure he could think of more.

Lupin rolled up his sleeves. ‘Did you prepare?’

Draco grabbed his wand so tightly it hurt. He wanted to shake his head and run, but of course he prepared. He couldn’t face this situation unprepared. The problem was, he didn’t really know what to expect.

He had so many fears.

He nodded.

‘Remember,’ said Lupin as he grabbed the lid of the packing case. ‘Whatever comes out: it’s not real. Think of something funny and say Riddikulus! Ready?’

‘Born ready.’

‘One – Two – Three – ’

He pulled the lid off.

Slowly, a messy head with black hair and glasses popped up from the box and began to climb out. His green eyes locked on Draco’s and watched him with pity.

Draco grabbed his wand, but Potter’s face made his voice get stuck in his throat. He had both his feet on the floor now.

‘You _like_ me?’ Potter said – then he snorted.

Bumping into a table, Draco backed away. ‘Ri-rid…’ he mumbled, his wand pointed at the figure – who was not real.

This Harry was taller than the real one, Draco noted. He looked down on Draco with mock compassion, shaking his head. ‘That is so weird.’ He frowned, suddenly looking awkward. ‘I love Cho, you know that, right?’

Draco nodded. ‘Yeah. Of course. I didn’t – I don’t – ’

‘It’s not real!’ someone shouted. ‘Make it funny!’

Funny?

A puzzling frown appeared on Harry’s face. ‘Seriously though, when did I ever give the impression I even remotely like you? Tell me, when?’

Draco was fidgeting with his wand now. ‘Well… No, there was… I mean…’

Harry let out a short, derisive laugh. ‘It did give us all a good laugh, Malfoy. We feel kinda bad for you…’

Draco was pushed to the side. A big white orb appeared in the classroom, and Lupin shouted, ‘Riddikulus!’

Draco was shaking. With a bang, the lid of the box was closed. Potter was gone. 

Blinking, feeling bewildered, Draco stared at his Professor, who was panting to keep the box closed.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

The tabletop felt cold under Draco’s hand when he leaned on it to keep himself upright.

‘He was so mean…’ His whispered voice sounding shakily.

Lupin nodded compassionately. ‘He was… Next time, keep in mind that it’s not real. Focus on the funny image. What idea did you prepare?’

Draco wrapped his arms around his chest. ‘I’d wanted to give him a silly voice, like his tongue was stuck between his teeth all the time. I forgot.’ Draco felt cold. ‘He looked so real. He was so mean.’

‘I know,’ said Lupin. ‘Boggarts have a knack for knowing exactly where it hurts and exploiting it to the fullest. Do you want something before we go again? Water? Chocolate?’

Fear rose up in Draco’s chest and he backed further away. ‘Again? No. I’ve had enough.’

Lupin leaned against the desk. ‘Look, I understand, but you know what to expect this time. You know what to do now. Don’t you think you’ll do better this time?’

Harry’s words resounded in Draco’s head, as did his scornful laughter. It was awful.

‘I don’t know how to make him funny,’ Draco admitted. ‘I – I like him no matter.’

‘You'd still like him if he was this mean?’

Draco looked at his Professor. He shrugged. ‘Yeah…’

A flash of sympathy crossed Professor Lupin’s face, before he quickly pulled a straight face again. ‘What if he was wearing the ugliest dress you’ve ever seen? With high heels?’

Despite his still shaken feeling, Draco smirked. Looking at the ceiling, he pictured Harry in a tight, gold lamé dress, with sparkly purple cowboy boots. 

He nodded. ‘Might work,’ he agreed, hiding his smile.

He hated feeling so vulnerable in front of his Professor. Lupin was right: this Boggart needed to go.

Draco grabbed his wand tight and stepped closer to the box. ‘Bring it.’

Harry wasn’t real. His words weren’t real. They _could_ be real, but they weren’t. Draco would never tell Harry about his feelings, so there was no way this whole situation would ever happen.

Pointing his wand at the box, he vividly pictured Harry in the tight dress and the boots. The first thing this Boggart would see was Draco’s grin.

Lupin counted down and opened the box – and just as he did a few minutes earlier, Harry rose from it.

This time he didn’t climb out. He toppled over and dropped onto the classroom floor.

His skin looked grey, his eyes were closed, his robes were covered in blood

Before he knew it, Draco was bent over him, feeling for a pulse. ‘Potter?!’

Blood stained Draco’s hands – Potter’s blood. ‘Harry, for Merlin’s sake, what did you do?’ Falling on his knees, he dragged Harry’s head on his legs and pressed his forehead against Potter’s. ‘I love you.’

‘Not real!’ shouted Lupin.

‘A-are you sure?’ Draco stammered.

This situation could very well be real. Potter had a tendency to pop up out of nowhere. Last year he crawled out of the girls bathroom with a sword, covered in Basilisk blood.

Draco stroke the hair out of Harry’s face, pulled up one of Harry’s eyelids and saw the grass green eyes looking straight through him.

A gentle hand pulled him away. A desperate cry escaped Draco when Potter vanished with a CRACK.

This time Lupin locked the box back up and sat Draco down on a table. He pulled his sleeve over his hand to dry Draco’s cheeks. ‘Here –’ he handed him a Chocolate Frog. ‘It wasn’t real,’ he said.

‘It looked real.’

‘If you want I can call Harry here to – ’

‘NO!’ Draco jumped up. ‘You swore! No one can know! You saw his reaction!’ Draco gestured at the box.

Lupin looked even paler than usual. ‘Listen, I understand now why you didn’t want to do this in class – and if you don’t want to continue, it’s okay.’

Draco’s eyes grew big. ‘ _Now_ it’s okay?!’

‘Look, I do not enjoy seeing my students like this,’ Lupin said.

‘Then I’d like to go,’ said Draco huffily.

Lupin simply nodded. Draco bolted.

. . .

Still, it didn’t sit right with Draco. Everyone else had such an easy time defeating the Boggart, yet Draco couldn’t get past how real it looked. He felt weak; a failure.

Maybe Lupin was right, maybe Draco _would_ feel better after defeating the Boggart. What if –

What if Draco was better prepared for the real deal if he practiced the scenarios first on this Boggart? Maybe he wouldn’t be so afraid of them anymore.

 _Maybe_.

It took him a long time to muster up the courage to make the decision: he wanted to try it again.

It took even longer to ask Professor Lupin for help.

Then suddenly it was eight o’clock on Thursday evening and Draco was making his way to Binn’s classroom for the second time. When he arrived, Lupin was already there, with the packing case ready on the desk – wonders would never stop.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked when Draco was settling himself on one of the tables.

Draco nodded, then realised that wasn’t an answer. ‘Fine, I don’t know.’ He shrugged, more as a nervous habit than anything else.

‘Are you sure you want to try it again?’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

‘Good. Do you want to start straight away?’

‘Yes,’ said Draco, getting to his feet. ‘I need to defeat this thing; get it over with.’

‘That’s the spirit. Think of Harry in something hilarious,’ repeated Lupin for the umpteenth time. ‘Then say Riddikulus.’

‘Yes, I’m not senile. I know the drill.’

‘Alright, here we go then.’

The second Lupin started opening the packing case, a knock came at the door. He slammed it shut. ‘Yes?’

Draco turned around… and in walked his Boggart – or, no… it was probably the real Harry Potter. Almost dropping his wand, Draco jumped away from the box.

Potter stared at the scene, dumbfounded.

‘What?’ Draco snarled.

‘What’s going on here?’ Potter asked, squinting in suspicion.

Lupin had an excuse ready, ‘Draco wanted some more experience with defeating a Boggart.’

‘Our Mansion has one every other week,’ Draco drawled, surprised at the quick lie popping in his head. 

‘What can I do for you?’ asked Lupin.

Potter turned to their Professor. ‘Er, I thought – it’s eight o’clock, right?’

Lupin looked confused. Then his face lit up in understanding. ‘Oh, no, I meant next Thursday,’ he said, walking towards Harry, or rather, to his bag, standing next to the door. ‘You’re a week early. I’m sorry, I was probably unclear.’

Draco felt uneasy in the presence of both his locked-up Boggart and his real fear in physical form. He wished Harry would go away.

Lupin, meanwhile, seemed to be completely lost on the urgency of the situation. ‘Now that I have you here,’ he said, riffling through his dilapidated bag, ‘I wanted to talk about your latest essay; give you some pointers for our meeting next week.’

‘Sure, take your time,’ Draco snarled, his muscles clenched in anxiety. Until that Boggart was dead and gone, Draco was a wreck.

‘Sorry, I’ll be quick,’ said Lupin.

Draco crossed his arms to keep his shaking body in check. Of all people in the world, Potter was the most important to keep his secret from. If he’d walked in only a few seconds later, the consequences would have been disastrous.

Potter and Lupin were bent over Harry’s stupid essay when Draco caught Potter’s eye. Or rather, Potter was looking at something behind Draco. His eyes were huge.

Fear filled Draco’s chest. There could only be one thing behind him. He froze in horror, not daring to look around.

As he watched Potter, soft hands touched his waist, turning him around. Draco closed his eyes, too horrified to watch.

When he opened them, he stared straight into Harry’s face.

This wasn’t real, it wasn’t the real Potter. The real Potter was behind them, watching Draco respond to _his_ touch.

Draco wasn’t prepared for the Boggart. And he wasn’t prepared at all for this Potter. This Potter with his arms around Draco’s waist and love in his eyes.

Draco backed away, startled and slightly weak in the knees, but the Boggart’s arms caught him and pulled him close – Harry Potter pulled him close. He stroke the hair out of Draco’s face, cupped his cheek – and he kissed him.

It stopped Draco’s breath. Harry’s fingers felt warm on his face and sneaked under his shirt.

Draco felt around for something solid to hold onto, something to bring him back to earth, but they only found Harry’s arms, his wrists, his hand around his cheek. He felt his shoulder, his neck, his face and his hair.

Something between a moan and a whimper escaped him. Harry’s lips were tender and soft and _exactly_ how he’d imagined them.

Then he remembered – the reason for that was because he _did_ imagine them. This wasn’t real.

Gasping, he pulled loose, whirling around to see the real Harry, who was watching in horror. As the Boggart-Harry stroked Draco’s hair behind his ear, the real Harry looked livid and stormed towards them.

Before Draco could decide if he should run or hide, Harry had slammed the Boggart against the floor.

CRACK!

Boggart-Potter disappeared, leaving the real Harry confused on the floor with his fist in the air.

A cold wind blew through the classroom when a large, cloaked figure rose into the air.

Potter froze, sitting on the floor, staring at the Dementor like he was seeing something else entirely.

A chill ran down Draco’s spine, watching the terror on Potter’s face, and suddenly an unfamiliar kind of bravery surged through him.

‘Riddikulus!’ Draco shouted, pointing his wand at the Boggart.

CRACK!

Boggart-Harry showed up again, but this time he was wearing an oversized, black cloak. An evil smirk crossed his face as his eyes locked on Draco.

Before the Boggart could do or say anything, Draco strongly pictured him in the gold dress and shouted again, ‘Riddikulus!’

The cloak fell open to reveal a gold lamé dress that was way too tight for anyone’s good.

Next to him he heard laughter. The real Harry Potter was laughing.

‘Riddikulus!’ Potter shouted too, and the Boggart tripped over the cloak, falling face forward on the floor.

Both Draco and Harry were laughing now – and with the loudest crack the Boggart exploded, bursting into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke.

It was gone.

‘Well done!’ shouted Lupin. ‘Great job! Fifty points for Slytherin and Gryffindor!’

Draco turned around as Lupin stepped between him and Harry. He felt livid: this whole situation was his fault to begin with. Did he _plan_ this?

‘I am so sorry,’ Lupin said seeing his face. ‘I should have paid attention. This was a big – _big_ – mess-up and it was one hundred percent on me.’

Potter looked confused. ‘What _was_ that thing? It looked like me.’

Lupin turned around to Potter and helped him get up. ‘Harry, this was not what it seemed – ’

Draco elbowed past him. ‘Why did you attack it?’

Potter blinked stupidly. ‘I don’t know,’ Harry stammered. ‘I got angry.’

‘Why didn’t you get angry at _me_?’ Draco made it sound aggressive, to cover up how mortified he felt.

‘I don’t know, Malfoy.’ Irritated, Harry brushed off his pants and made to leave. ‘See you next week, Professor.’

‘Yes, see you, Harry,’ Lupin said.

Draco glowered at him, making his professor jump when their eyes met. Draco felt like hitting him.

‘Did you plan this?’

‘No! No, absolutely not.’

‘Are you telling me this was all a coincidence?’

‘I thought the box was locked. I wasn’t paying attention, I’m sorry.’

Draco exploded. All his bottled up fear came out. ‘You stupid, dim-witted, dung-brain oaf!’ he shouted. ‘I thought no Professor could ever be worse than the ones we already had! I cannot believe I was wrong!’ His voice echoed between the classroom walls. ‘Potter will tell _everyone_! Maybe he doesn’t understand what he saw yet, but he will! Or that infuriating Granger will explain it! Before tomorrow, the whole school will know, and it will all be on you!’ His hands were clenched in fists of rage. ‘And the worst thing,’ he bellowed, ‘is I can’t even tell my father!’

Lupin sat down, looking more gloomy than ever before. He nodded. ‘Yes. I understand. If you want, I’ll turn in my resignation. Let me know.’

Dumbfounded, Draco stared at him. Resignation? Was it that easy?

It confused him. This man ruined his life. He deserved to feel bad. Right? Then why did Draco suddenly feel so conflicted?

Draco slammed the door on his way out.

. . .

Early the next morning, Draco went to the kitchens to steal something rotten, so he could hide away at the Hospital Wing with food poisoning.

No doubt the gossip machine was working at top speed today. Pansy would be the first Slytherin to find out. Vincent and Gregory would know, and Blaise,, Theo and his Quidditch team mates too.

Draco felt absolutely miserable. Before noon people would be walking past the Hospital Wing to look at him, whispering and pointing. They would be waiting for him to leave, so they could taunt him at best, or beat him to death at worst…

He asked Madame Pomfrey for some parchment and a quill, so he could ask his parents to be transferred to Durmstrang.

Remembering the way Boggart-Harry looked at him when he said it gave them all a good laugh to find out Draco liked them, Draco felt a hot swoop of humiliation surge through his stomach. He wanted to crawl underneath his bed and stay there forever.

Footsteps in the corridor; the creak of the door.

Before anyone could spot him, Draco pulled the covers over his head. He was sound asleep, not to be disturbed.

‘Malfoy?’

Draco clenched the blanket even tighter, pressing his eyes firmly closed.

‘Malfoy!’ Potter shook his shoulder.

There was no way he could pretend to sleep through this. Irritated, he slammed the blanket away. ‘What?! You’re the _last_ person I want to see, Potter!’

Surprise crossed Potter’s face, and – could it be? – did Draco spot a bit of hurt there too? Before he could be sure, Potter had pulled himself together and frowned at Draco.

‘Well, I need to talk to you,’ he said, ‘and it’s now or never apparently.’ He pointed at Draco’s letter.

Draco bolted upright. ‘Keep your ugly nose out of my business.’

Harry pulled up a chair. ‘What was going on yesterday?’ he asked, looking at Draco with fearless resolve.

Draco sat upright. ‘I said: go away.’

‘No,’ Harry looked over his shoulder and bent forward to Draco. ‘I was kissing you,’ he hissed. ‘Why?!’

Draco crossed his arms, pressing his lips together.

‘It was a Boggart, right?’ asked Harry, his frown leaving deep marks on his forehead. ‘So… is it your _worst fear_ that _I kiss you_?’

Some part of Draco felt like laughing derisively at Potter’s dumb conclusion, but that would only give him away.

‘Just go away,’ he told him. ‘Forget it.’

‘I can’t,’ said Harry. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I can’t figure it out. I need to know, Malfoy, why am I your Boggart?’

Draco still didn’t want to reply. How could he? The only explanation he could give would be the horrifying, ugly truth.

‘But – ’ Harry stammered. ‘I thought – Draco?’

Draco looked up hearing his first name. It sounded different coming from Harry Potter.

‘Did you – … Look, I don’t understand – ’ Harry’s irritation was back. ‘I’m sure I’m wrong, but I thought… Did – did you like it? When the Boggart… When it kissed you?’

Draco hid his hands in his hair and tried in vain to disappear entirely. ‘I said I don’t want to talk about it! Just leave it!’

‘I told you I can’t!’ Harry all but shouted. ‘I deserve to know, Malfoy!’

‘You don’t deserve anything! It is _my_ secret!’

Harry blinked, looking surprised. Draco wanted to bite off his tongue.

‘Piss off!’ he yelled. ‘NOW!’

Madame Pomfrey hurried towards them. ‘What’s going on here? There’s no need to shout! Mister Potter, it is not visiting hours, I must ask you to leave.’

Potter was shaking with rage, standing next to Draco’s bed, towering over him like the Boggart had.

‘Did you like it or not, Malfoy?!’

‘Why does it matter to you?!’ Draco yelled back.

Potter fell silent, though still looking infuriated.

‘I’m too busy for this,’ said Madame Pomfrey. ‘I’ll give you ten minutes if you keep quiet.’

She hurried off. Both Harry and Draco ignored her.

Potter crossed his arms and plopped down on the chair again. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well I’m the last person to explain it,’ snapped Draco. ‘So you can leave.’

Harry scowled. ‘Why can’t you just say if you liked it?’

Imagine that!

‘Why can’t you just say why you tried to _fight yourself_?’ Draco snapped back.

Potter bored his eyes into Draco’s. ‘He made me angry.’

‘Clearly,’ snarled Draco.

Potter dropped his gaze, shifting in his seat. ‘I thought you liked it. With – with that guy…’

‘ _That guy_ was you, you dung-brain.’

‘No, it wasn’t. I am me. I’ve never – you know – done _that_.’

No way! ‘Potter? Were you…’ Draco squinted. ‘Jealous?’

Potter ruffled through his hair, still nervously moving in his seat. ‘I got angry,’ he said, ever so softly. ‘Why am I your Boggart, Malfoy?’

Harry sounded hurt. Positively hurt. Draco’s heart started beating loudly.

‘Not you,’ said Draco, adopting that soft tone. He took a deep breath. ‘ _You_ aren’t my Boggart, Harry – your reaction is.’

Harry stared at him, frowning like he was solving a difficult riddle.

‘Would _you_ like it?’ Draco asked. Still that eternal puzzled look on Harry’s face, so Draco added, ‘If you… did _that_?’

Startled, Potter sat up straight and looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening. His face became a marvellous shade of red and a warm glow ran up Draco’s spine and spread through his body, right up to the tips of his fingers.

Smirking, he leaned over to Harry. ‘Wanna try?’

Harry inhaled sharply. His eyes swept over Draco – from his chest and his hands, to every inch of his face, at last coming to a halt at his lips. 

Draco felt himself leaning towards him, and at last – just as his worst fear had – Harry closed the distance between them.

His ship was sailing out of the harbour, unsafe, but doing exactly what it was for.


End file.
